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Updated: June 17, 2025
The next day, instead of black pearls, she strung white pearls and bits of false coral; for at Mademoiselle Le Mire's they worked only in what was false, in tinsel, and that was where little Chebe was to serve her apprenticeship to life. For some time the new apprentice-being younger and better bred than the others found that they held aloof from her.
Not that I underrated Le Mire's fascination and power; to confess the truth, my ease of mind was the result of my own vanity. Le Mire had flattered me into the belief that she was my friend. A week passed a dull week, during which I saw little of Harry and Le Mire not at all.
There, seated in the dazzling sunshine on the edge of a huge boulder near the eastern precipice, were the two I sought. Le Mire's head was turned from me as she sat gazing silently at the tumbling, gorgeous mass of clouds that seemed almost to be resting on her lap; Harry was looking at her. And such a look!
The next day, instead of black pearls, she strung white pearls and bits of false coral; for at Mademoiselle Le Mire's they worked only in what was false, in tinsel, and that was where little Chebe was to serve her apprenticeship to life. For some time the new apprentice-being younger and better bred than the others found that they held aloof from her.
The letter was no longer there. The package lay on the table, open, revealing a photograph of Sidonie at fifteen. With her high-necked frock, her rebellious hair parted over the forehead, and the embarrassed pose of an awkward girl, the little Chebe of the old days, Mademoiselle Le Mire's apprentice, bore little resemblance to the Sidonie of to-day.
But Desiree Le Mire is not in San Francisco; though we declare that the performance of last evening was more than enough to rouse certain suspicions, especially in view of Le Mire's mysterious disappearance from New York. I took the paper to Desiree in her room, and while she read the article stood gazing idly from a window.
I could see Harry cocking his ear to catch the tone of my first words, and when he heard their friendliness a grin overspread his face. He took his hand from Le Mire's shoulder and held it out to me. "How did you come here? How did you find us?" "You forgot to provide Le Mire with a veil," said I by way of answer. Harry looked at me, then at his companion. "Of course," he agreed "of course.
But the good people of San Francisco were shocked, astonished, and entranced. Not a man in the room but was Le Mire's slave; even the women were forced to applaud. She became at once a goddess and an outcast. The newspapers of the following morning were full of it, running the scale of eulogy, admiration, and wonder.
The refrains of Offenbach or Herve, interspersed with unexpected notes, in which one resorts to expressive gestures for aid, to a motion of the head or the body, would have suited her better; but she dared not admit it to her sentimental instructress. By the way, although she had been made to sing a great deal at Mademoiselle Le Mire's, her voice was still fresh and not unpleasing.
Velvet lids were upraised from Le Mire's eyes. "Here?" she queried. I pointed to the place extreme charity might give it the title of inn where smoke was rising from a tin chimney. Soon we were seated inside with a pot of steaming black coffee before us.
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